


XXXXII, or: The Answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything.

by TheLastLynx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hermione hates sexism, PWP, Porn with Feelings, Post-Hogwarts, Shameless Smut, Smut, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 20:04:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17773379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLastLynx/pseuds/TheLastLynx
Summary: Hermione is incensed by sexist advice shared at work, but Draco makes her feel better - many times over.'You know,' Draco said between licks and kisses, his muffled timbre resonating through her body, 'If we're talking about the real answer to life, the universe, and everything, I might have an idea what it actually entails.'Written for the SD Valentine's Fest.





	XXXXII, or: The Answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on Prompt 42: "If you're at a resort have the bell-boy page you."  
> Everything was complete just in time, and for that I have to thank ravenclaw-sass for invaluable alpha advice and being an all-around cheerleader, and ravenslight who did a last-minute beta!
> 
> The title references, of course, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams. I sort of combined it with Gustave Courbet's endless wisdom about the origin of the world and ran with it. Also, I know that a classical Roman would've written 42 as XLII; however, there is a long-standing tradition to write forty as "XXXX", and you must see how that makes more sense for a smut fic ;)

_It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife._

That might as well have been the title of this particular irritating chapter in Hermione's life. She was currently absorbed by the challenge of tuning out the high-pitched, banshee-like voice of Pansy Parkinson that was cutting through her office like a shard.

Another day at the ministry, another day of Pansy "educating" (read: annoying) the office, the corridor, and probably the entire department floor about her favourite topic: the best ways to get a man.

Today's episode featured the ever-successful, age-old tricks of pure-blooded women in the noble art of husband-trapping.

Hermione suppressed a sigh of irritation. Head in her hands, she fixed her eyes firmly on last year's report on house-elf treatment, willing her mind to follow.

'Naturally, pure-blooded witches are much more adept at striking advantageous matches since they've had centuries of practise.' The annoying soprano was interrupted by the tell-tale ruffling of someone leafing through a magazine. 'Look here, for example–'

Hermione gritted her teeth. How she itched to perform a silencing charm. If only the last time hadn't turned out so very unfortunate. Pansy and Daisy had been harking on and on about matters of life and death – the importance of the wardrobe and a "proper" beauty routine. Hermione knew that their discussion was aimed at her and what Pansy decried as a "lack of style and poise". It didn't bother her though. Practical as ever, she’d blocked the innate chatter. All would've been well if her thin-skinned department head Athanasius Periwinkle hadn’t chosen precisely that moment to search her out to discuss a thoroughly unimportant issue. Unfortunately, (and partly due to his lacking faculties), it had taken him ten minutes to realise that Hermione was not, in fact, ignoring him. Furious, he hadn't believed a word of her excuse, especially since Pansy, the snake, had stopped her abuse as soon as he had set a foot into their corridor.

That left Hermione in the distinctly uncomfortable position of having a boss who thought that she thought that he was incompetent (which he was) and a secretary whose main task in life was to highlight all the shortcomings in Hermione's love life.

The bottom line: a silencing charm was out of the question.

Hermione glanced at the large office clock. 'Only two more hours 'til the weekend,' she thought to herself, eyes glued to the pile of documents in front of her. 'So, just suck it up and think of England.'

Unfortunately, Hermione's incredible talent for concentrating in the direst of situations was no match for Pansy's screeching timbre that grated agonisingly slow across Hermione's nerves. To make matters worse, Hermione's social sensibilities were insulted by the list, which was not only vapid and sexist, but also downright ridiculous.

To top it all off, a lot of them sounded distinctly Muggle-ish.

'Here's number 42-' Pansy's banshee-voice cut through the room.

'Let's hear it then,' Hermione mumbled whilst massaging her temples.

'If you're at a resort,' Pansy intoned with a gravitas that would've been suitable for an Order of Merlin acceptance speech, 'have the bell-boy page you.'

The sentence was punctuated by little gasps of astonishment from Daisy.

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Sounds just like the answer to life, the universe, and everything.'

'”The bell-boy should page me” – what does that mean?' Curiosity laced her girlish soprano. Hermione could just imagine her hanging on Pansy's words. But Hermione was intrigued as well: a pager was so very obviously Muggle that she was eager to know how Pansy would explain it away this time.

'Well,' Pansy said in that magnanimous tone, as if she was, indeed, entrusting Daisy with the answer to life, the universe, and everything, '"Paging" was a fashionable mode of communication amongst pure-bloods in the 1950s and '60s. Witches and wizards would charm pages of papers to fly around and notify you if you had an appointment. '

'Ohhhh,' breathed Daisy, as if this was, indeed, the answer to life, the universe, and everything.

The snort finally escaped, and Hermione managed _only_ _just_ to keep from guffawing. Of course, pure-bloods would rather bend over backwards than admit that they had copied anything Muggle. In fact, she’d wager her Valentine's weekend vacation with Draco that the whole sordid list of "life advice" was based on a Muggle article.

It all was so very ridiculous, and Hermione felt that any minute now she could apparate away through the pure force of her eye-rolling.

'The most important thing is,' Pansy raised her tone to an impossibly more obnoxious level, 'that a wizard believes you are busy and well-connected. Not too much though; nobody wants a busybody for a wife. I mean–' Pansy paused theatrically, and Hermione knew that this stab was directed at her, 'It might work well enough if you're just a girlfriend. But for the _real_ goal, marriage, that won't do. No self-respecting wizard will want a workaholic wife who has no time to spare to raise the children and keep the household.'

Hermione bit her lip as to not break out in laughter.

It was just hilarious that Pansy was still so bothered by the fact that Hermione was with Draco — for four years and one day, to be exact.

Hermione was not a romantic person, which Draco had found out the hard way – four Valentine's Days ago. After months of flirtations and banter exchanged in-between office doors and in elevators, an unsuspecting Hermione had returned from her lunch break to find her office covered in orange lilies belting out 'La donna è mobile'. It was a natural reaction, really, to break out into laughter – to the chagrin of a disillusioned Draco waiting to hear her response. It had taken Hermione one day, three tries, and one convincing set of lingerie to restore Draco's bruised ego.

Hermione smiled fondly at the memory of the look on his face when she had dropped her proper robes to reveal a lacy teddy, adorned with pearls that highlighted her favourite body parts. She also recalled how he had almost fainted because the blood had rushed south far too quickly, and how she had proceeded to revive him. Repeatedly.

'It's sooo important to make things official as soon as possible. What does it say about you if, several years into the relationship, the wizard still hasn't proposed?'

No, Pansy did not take the news very well. After a (sadly brief) period of stunned incredulity, Hermione endured months of vicious comments (all centering around the fact that Draco would realise soon enough that Hermione was not worth his time). Since Hermione was not easily ruffled, Draco had only found out about it accidentally when he walked in on Pansy during one of her tirades. Furious, he had started to send Hermione over-the-top bouquets that always seemed to arrive when she was in a meeting, which meant that they had to be signed off (and sometimes arranged) by the secretaries.

Hermione couldn't help but be delighted at Draco's petty revenge. The four years with him had been some of the best of her life. Against all odds, Draco Malfoy turned out to be everything she wanted in a man: he was as quick as he was stubborn, he possessed incredible patience, yet he could also be kind if he chose to be. Most importantly, they both shared a passionate nature. It fuelled their arguments, but it also ignited their bedroom.

In short, Hermione was perfectly happy.

Pansy, on the other hand, was not. Every year around Valentine's Day, she got even saltier than usual, smugly pointing out that they were still not engaged. Hermione didn’t care; at just 29, she wasn't feeling a rush to get married. A promotion, on the other hand, was something she was impatient for; anything to get rid of Pansy and Periwinkle.

So there they were, Pansy making thinly veiled jokes about how Draco was not serious with Hermione, and Hermione sitting at her desk wishing it was four o'clock, so she could meet Draco for their weekend trip to Florence in celebration of their anniversary. Draco initially had tried to persuade Hermione to go to Venice, but she had categorically refused to fall into yet another romantic cliché.

'If your wizard hasn't made his intentions clear after four years, you're very likely not what he is looking for.'

Hermione rolled her eyes. Her promotion couldn't come fast enough.

She took a fortifying breath and thought about her present for Draco: like every year, she’d surprise him with a particularly racy piece of lingerie. This year she had opted for a teddy that covered the body in the most beautiful lace and had cut-outs in all the right places...

****

Draco couldn't stop laughing when Hermione recounted the story.

'It's so bloody ridiculous.' She huffed and dropped her holdall and sank onto the large bed. 'As if anyone's worth is determined by their marital status.'

Draco quirked an eyebrow. 'My, my, Granger. Pansy really does have it out for you.'

Hermione mumbled something unintelligible and fell back onto the pillows. Draco strolled across the room and sat down next to her. He took one of her winter-darkened strands in his hand, twisting it around his slender fingers. 'You should take it as a compliment.'

Hermione exhaled heavily and brought her hands to her eyes. 'I really don't find anything particularly complimentary about that.' She rubbed her eyes.

Draco chuckled lightly. He collected more and more locks and wrapped them around his fingers. His other hand gently explored her face. His fingertips travelled over her cheek to her jawline, gently stroking up and down her neck.

'Why does it matter what she thinks, Granger? Not everyone can or wants to be a strong, independent woman.'

Hermione snorted. Draco continued his tender explorations. He was drawing lazy circles into the skin of her neck. He increased their radius ever so slightly that his fingertips brushed against her collarbone and travelled further south.

'I'm serious, Granger.' His mouth was now close to her face and she felt his breath pleasantly tingle against the shell of her ear. 'If she'd rather be a wife, that's her choice.'

'You're probably right.' Hermione exhaled deeply. Draco's caresses never failed to relax her. 'I just wish she would stop rubbing that pure-blood nonsense under everyone's _nose.'_ Hermione snorted at the memory of the ridiculous list. '"If you want to attract the attention of a man, have the bell-boy page you",' she intoned in a squeaky caricature of Pansy's voice. Draco laughed. 'What complete and utter nonsense!' Agitated, she sat up. Draco found his hand fortuitously moved from her clavicle to her breast – where it remained. He moved to kneel behind her and continued to draw soft circles over her blouse whilst he painted a trail with gentle open-mouthed kisses across her neck. 'And that was advice number forty-two, Draco – FORTY-TWO!'

Draco chuckled into her locks and used her distraction to scoot closer.

'Just screams the answer to life, the universe, and everything, doesn't it?' Sarcasm was dripping from her lips like venom. 'And it doesn't even make any sense! Why, by Merlin's saggy balls, would a man be attracted to a woman just because she got a message? Because she’s busy? Oh, but not too busy, of course, because how could she play house-wife for him?' She huffed.

Draco didn’t answer. His kisses grew ever more intense. He moved her locks from her neck and began exploring her nape with his lips. His tongue flicked out to trace the veins in her neck.

'I know exactly what you mean, Granger.' His breath clung to her sensitive skin his tongue had been tracing patterns on. Hermione felt gooseflesh breaking out. 'Why would I want a tame little house-wife when I can have a fiery hellcat instead?' Hermione snorted. 'You're insufferable. I really should spank you for that.'

She felt him grin against her back. 'Please do.' His voice sent minuscule vibrations down her spine. He lightly bit her neck, and she gasped. The touch on her breasts grew more intense. His fingers were brushing against her nipples. Hermione felt them grow taut underneath the fabric of her blouse. Automatically, she leaned into his touch, arching her back, aching for more contact. Draco shifted ever so slightly. He was still kneeling behind her, but his torso was now pressed against her, his hands worshipping her breasts as his mouth continued to travel along her jaw, her neck, her shoulders... His kisses became more heated and Hermione felt his arousal prodding against her lower back, peaking her own excitement.

Her breath hitched as his thumbs flicked against her hardened nipples, playing with them. She hummed in delight.

'You know,' Draco said between licks and kisses, his muffled timbre resonating through her body, 'If we're talking about the real answer to life, the universe, and everything, I might have an idea what it actually entails.'

The rasp of his voice, the feel of his fingers twisting her nipples, and his tongue licking her skin had her brain growing fuzzier and her body alternating between hot and cold.

'Really?' her tone was getting breathy. 'You need to show me your hypothesis then.'

In response, Draco’s fingers danced over her blouse, opening one button after another, always taking care to let his fingertips slip inside and brush ever so lightly against the exposed skin. As his hands worked on her front, Hermione reached back, feeling for his head and the silky strands of his hair.

Finally, his nimble fingers had opened all of the buttons, and he peeled her out of the garment. He shifted behind her. His hands skirted along her torso, the flat of his hands exerting the softest and most delicious pressure along her ribs, her belly, skirting up over her breasts again and brushing against her sensitive peaks. She pressed herself against him, pulling him forward. One hand slipped inside her bra, stimulating her nipples, while the other skirted over the swell of her breast down the valley of her stomach and played with the hem of her trouser.

He pulled her flush against him, skirting further up onto the bed so that she lay stretched out, her head propped up on his bent knees. He lowered his head, tilting up her chin, and caught her lips in a slow, languid kiss. As he pulled away, his fingers stroked her cheeks lightly. Hermione looked up and thought that he was about to say something, but then she got lost in the intensity of his stare, the quicksilver shimmering around the dark of his irises.

'Let me show you,' he said and moved away to gently lay her onto the soft pillows. He scooted down the bed, his hands travelling along the length of her body, mapping the swell of her breasts, brushing against the hardened nipples in her bra. Hermione sighed and let herself sink even deeper in the bed. His mouth joined his fingers as he nibbled at her exposed skin. As his lips mapped the exposed skin of her breast, his fingers were dipping lower, exerting delicious pressure against her stomach. His touches resonated in her very core. It was as if he was stoking a fire deep within that slowly increased and sent heatwaves all over her skin. She itched to move things along.

She had barely moved, when Draco pinned her against the bed. His silver eyes bore into her with a burning intensity, and he leaned down to devour her with a kiss. 'Don't move.' His hot breath tickled the sensitive skin below her ear and sent shivers racing down her spine. Hermione bit away a moan.

Draco moved lower again, lips and tongue mapping the curve of her neck, the ridge of her throat, licking and kissing along her clavicles while his hands ran up and down her sides. His tongue flicked against her cleavage and he outlined the lacy barrier of her bra. Where the soft wetness of his tongue should've cooled her skin, it just incensed the burning. Hermione was aching for to feel him, for him to go further, to hold her lover close. Inadvertently, a whimper dropped from her lips.

Finally, his hands joined his wicked tongue, and he shoved aside the bra. At Hermione's deep sigh came Draco hummed against her skin in appreciation. She knew how he loved it when she unravelled for him.

Hermione felt a new urgency to his touches sending a delicious burning through her. Her breathing quickened and grew shallow. She willed his fingers to go lower – go _there_ , but Draco continued to tease her, skirting around her nipples, nibbling and licking everywhere but where her peaks were firm and sensitive rubbing against the cloth of her underwear. While his lips continued to tease, his teeth grazing her soft skin, his hands skirted around to her sides and dipped between her body and the covers. Finally, he undid the clasp; Hermione's breath hitched in anticipation. With delicious slowness, Draco tugged at the bra with his teeth, and it lazily peeled from her heaving breast. His hands found her, kneading her exposed flesh, and the fire was spreading all over her body and incensed her core.

Her breath was growing shorter and shorter in tandem with his touches becoming more intense: he was sucking at her, his tongue stroking her tits deliciously, caressing her flesh, as he moved closer and closer to her nipples. Finally, his mouth moved over them, and the ghost of his hot breath made them stiffen even more. Hermione felt another rush of heat flood her body.

She was panting now, desiring more, a heavier touch; impatient to feel him where she most desired it.

His tongue flicked against nipples, and a sigh escaped her lips. 'Please, Draco.'

She just felt his lips curl around her areola. Hermione couldn't hold herself back any longer. She raked her fingers through his silky hair, pressing him lightly against her tits. She threw her head back in passion as his licking transformed into sucking, sending shivers down her spine. When he twisted her nipples just the way she enjoyed it, she subconsciously lifted her pelvis, eager for more friction. His hands were heavily roaming up and down her body. His palms were pressing against her and were stoking that delicious ache within her.

She panted, and Draco slowly moved south, his hands never leaving her body, his mouth devouring her skin. Hermione was a mess; the touches and kisses had left her in a dazed state. Eager to feel, she caressed all of him she could reach; she stroked his silver hair, his elegant neck, his broad shoulders, his strong arms.

Hermione snapped out of her admiration for her boyfriend when his fingers and lips nipped at the rim of her skirt. His tongue darted out to lick the skin underneath the fabric in accord with his hands skirting along her legs. Hermione couldn't help but moan.

'Off with it.'

His intense gaze bore into her, making her heady. 'As the lady wishes,' he said with a devious smirk. He sat up, and Hermione could make out the evidence of his arousal. His cock was rigid and heavy and struggling against his trousers. At the sight, Hermione felt another shock of heat resonating through her body. As Draco languidly peeled her skirt from her skin, his lips and tongue following his hands as he pulled it downs her legs, she spread her legs wider and wider. When he had finally stripped it off her, she sat up and slung her arms around him. She caught his lips in a passionate kiss, pouring all her affection for him into it. Her tongue stroked against his, tracing the seam of his lips, and her hands were roaming up and down his body, feeling every angle, every bump and ridge of his muscular torso.

'Enough with the teasing! I want you now, Draco.' Both their breaths were coming shorter now. 'I want you inside of me. I want you to _fuck_ me.' Her lips descended onto his once more, her tongue chasing the friction that she craved in her throbbing, pulsating centre. Her hands skirted down his torso. She was eager to feel him, too, feel his cock hot and heavy in her palm, tracing every vein with her fingertips... His hands halted hers before she could get a hold of him.

'Let me give this to you, Hermione,' he rasped, and his lips wandered from her mouth to her ear. 'I want you to lose your mind.' He grabbed her hands and placed them in the pillows above her head. 'I want to see that sensible, brilliant brain of yours stop churning and only think of me.' He dropped an almost chaste kiss on her lips, and then his tongue lightly licked along her upper lip. 'Just for a while, Hermione, I want your sharp tongue to only wet your lips.' He moved down her body once again, nibbling and licking her skin along the way, his fingertips and nails grazing her sensitive skin in a way that sent little fires all over her body. 'I want that sassy little mouth of yours to scream in pleasure.' He traced the edges of her knickers, his tongue darting out to stroke her flesh that it left Hermione's chest heaving for breath. 'And then–' he looked from between her legs and Hermione saw the wicked glint in his eyes. '–I will shag you so hard you'll see stars.'

Hermione thought she might lose it. She felt as though she was in a daze, addled by lust.

'Yes,' she breathed and closed her eyes, unable to do anything but drown in the sensation of him all around her. Draco was all over her skin and in her mind.

He dropped open-mouthed kisses all along her bared legs. With every contact, Hermione felt a stab of hot desire shoot right into her core. She shifted her legs and subconsciously bared her core to him even more. She felt the bed shift, and then she felt his hot breath against her cunt. A moan escaped her.

He curled his fingers into the hem of her knicker. Ever so slowly, he peeled off the lace, exposing inch after inch.

'You know what?' He was right _there_ , his breath on her skin sending delightful shivers up and down her spine.

'What?' Her voice was barely a gasp.

He stripped the garment off her, his hands caressing her legs as he did so. Hermione felt the exposure of her swollen core; the cool air hit her in a way that made intensified the thrumming and throbbing. She was so desperate for him to touch her cunt that she almost cried out in pleasure when she felt the heat of his skin radiate against her wet, over-sensitised cunt.

'I think–' She felt his tongue run along the seam of her sex, and she almost cried out. It was as if waves of pleasure were crashing down on her, burying her. '–I've discovered the answer to life–' he accentuated his words with tiny flicks against her labia, 'the universe–', his tongue swirled around the glans of her clit, and her breath came out in gasps, '–and everything.' She cried out when he pressed his tongue against her nub. He started to stroke up and down, dragging his tongue around and around the peak. He alternated his licking by flicks against her most sensitive parts, sometimes diving into the depth of her core. The passion that had been sweltering inside was breaking out like a wildfire. The burning intensity of his touch was consuming her from the inside and spread all over her body. Draco increased pace and pressure, and Hermione was a panting mess, her back arching from the bed to get _more_ . She felt the fire burning her up, spreading through her veins, and bursting in her heart. Her breath stuttered and her heart raced, and Draco kept on pushing, pushing, _pushing_ her towards the edge. She felt it nearing, she could feel it coming. The fire was turning into tiny explosions, erupting along her spine, setting off chain reactions and detonating in her–

'Ohhhhh, goooods, Dracoooo!' Hermione threw back her head as an all-consuming, scorching blaze stormed through her body, setting every single nerve on fire.

She was still catching her breath when she felt his lips crashing down on her. He was swallowing her pleasure, keeping the fire sweltering inside her.

'I've got to have you now,' he said, voice raspy, grey eyes burning.

He pushed back and swiftly rid himself of his clothes. He knelt down, grabbing her spread legs, and finally pushed himself inside her pulsating core. Draco closed his eyes in obvious rapture, his mouth agape. He pulled back and repeated the motion. His strokes were languid and lazy at first. Hermione relished the feel of his cock inside of her, stretching her cunt, filling her just the way she loved it. Then his movements became deeper, more urgent. The grip on her thighs tightened, and his pace quickened. His fingers dug into her skin as he set a punishing rhythm. Hermione tilted her hips and spread her legs wider. Heat was once again pooling in her core and started racing through her body. Draco pulled her closer to himself so her hips were elevated on his knees, allowing him to fuck her even deeper. He panted from the exertion, all the while continuing the punishing rhythm. Hermione felt the familiar burning sensation flaring deep inside. She knew how she could get there even faster if he–

'Let me fuck you from behind,' he said between gritted teeth. Hermione rolled onto her stomach. Draco gripped her hips and drove home.

'Yeeesss!' Hermione keened in rapture. She met every snap of his hips. Every stroke felt even more intense than before. He was pulling her back onto his cock, his balls slapping against her clit, stimulating to her cunt even more.  

'Oh god, yes, Draco! Right there!' Hermione felt one of his hands leaving her hip, skirting to her drenched lips. He rubbed her while he kept pounding and pounding and pounding into her.

‘Fuck, Hermione! You’re so fucking wet!’

His hissed words made her stomach clench. Hermione arched her back and pushed out her arse. ‘Oh, yesss! Keep going... just like that! Oh, fu-fuck!’

Draco was fucking her with abandon now, grunting with every snap his hips.

Hermione was lost in the sensation of her hot cunt swallowing his cock. Her continued arousal was consuming her body and clouding her mind that the familiar building sensation almost surprised her. A flash of electricity suddenly jolted through her body, making her gasp and violently shudder. Draco fucked her through her climax. He pushed her onto the blanket while she was convulsing around him. His thrusts became more erratic as he chased his own release. And then he grabbed her arse and with a few more strokes he buried himself deep inside her, pouring all of him into her slick, swollen centre.

Completely spent, he fell onto her. They lay there, panting, half on each other, half on the blankets. Hermione turned her head to face Draco. His face was glistening, the familiar blush spreading over his cheeks.

He opened his eyes and hummed, raising one arm to stroke her back.

Hermione smiled. ‘That was a nice way to prove your point, but I might require further convincing.’

****

Hermione sighed into his kiss and relished the feel of his broad, smooth hands caressing her arms, running down her shoulders and stroking her back. He peeled his lips from hers and, bracing himself on his bent arms, he took in her face. She was flushed from the exertion, her lips swollen red and eyes sparkling dark, a blush colouring her neck and her beautiful breast.

'You are so very beautiful.'

Losing himself in the dark pools of her eyes, Draco rooted himself in her once more. Hermione gasped and reached up to embrace him. Her hands roamed all over his back as she pressed into him. His face hovered over hers; their eyes connected, creosote and silver, and it was as if their souls were touching.

'I love you, Hermione.' He lowered his head to catch her lips once again in a languid kiss. He stroked in and out of her, his movements growing more impatient. Hermione gasped at the feeling of his length moving within her, her walls still fluttering from her earlier orgasms. Her fingers pressed into his skin as her hands felt along his spine, his ribs, and his muscles, eager to feel as much of him as possible. He buried himself deep inside her, plunging into her molten core over and over and over again. She lifted her pelvis to meet his every thrust, and they both moaned at the intensity of the sensation, losing themselves in their shared passion.

****

Hermione was almost ashamed to say that they spent the majority of the weekend in bed. Almost.

Draco was so delighted at the sight of her in the crotch-less teddy that he had wasted no time to fuck her over the hotel sofa. He returned the favour when he later surprised her by transfiguring his robes into a bell-boy uniform —to deliver an important message.

'Pansy would _die_ if she knew what we did to her precious pure-blood marriage advice.' Hermione gasped as Draco lifted the skirt of her dress, and she felt his tongue and lips skating up along her inner thigh.

Draco's head re-appeared between her legs, the dress carelessly flapped over his head.

'Pansy would die from envy if she knew what _your_ pure-blood did to you.' And his head disappeared again, bringing Hermione to new heights of ecstasy–a velvet box safely tucked away in his breast pocket.

**Author's Note:**

> There's a slightly different (and longer) version of this on FFN (https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13346071/1/XXXXII-or-The-Answer-to-Life-the-Universe-and-Everything). I'm leaving this one here though because I don't know which is better. Maybe let me know? x


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